Half A Nail
by Combination-NC
Summary: When Fenris had told Anders that he would listen, he had not expected the mage to bring him a basket full of kittens to listen to. Sequel to Midnight Swim, written for a friend who needed some fluff. And what is fluffier than a basket full of kittens?


Someone kicked rather hysterically at his front door. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was seemed intent on getting his attention, keeping it up for what he was sure had to be _minutes_. It reminded him of the abomination, the way he would prattle on for an entire fetch quest if no one stopped him, seemingly not caring about if the rest of the group were actually listening to him or not.

…No. Could it be? If it was, he might never stop.

Fenris stalked up to the door, dreading what he might find waiting outside it.

"Mage," he confirmed after opening it. Anders was there, staring at him with big, shiny eyes, holding… "Is… is that a box of kittens?"

"Yes. I can explain –"

"So you say." Fenris somehow doubted that it would be a good explanation, or even a logical one. The mage had spent plenty of time explaining his views about the Circle, after all; that did not mean that Fenris did not find his reasoning dangerous and delirious.

"They are newly weaned, but they would never make it in Darktown like this, the refugees might eat them –"

"So you brought them here?" Did his voice sound _horrified_ as realisation dawned upon him, or simply filled with too much disbelief to properly fit into such a short sentence? No, it had to be disbelief, because surely the mage could _not mean_ –

"Well, I can't really keep kittens at the clinic, it is still in Darktown, so they could be in danger… can they stay here? At least until they get bigger?"

But _of course_ that was what he meant. This was the mage, after all. Let him catch a glimpse of a fingernail, and he would go after your entire arm. You offer a mage a hesitant truce, and soon they will start bringing pets to keep at your place. Which was better than conducting sacrificial blood magic rituals, he had to admit, but only slightly.

"I cannot take care of these kittens for you." He made sure his voiced carried a proper amount of _finality_ to it, the very tone of it a _no_ so firm that surely even the mage would understand.

"Oh, you will not have to, I will come and feed them and everything."

Had he taken one knock to the head too many during his various recaptures, or was he simply completely respectless? Fenris narrowed his eyes. Not that he expected any mage to respect him, or anyone else for that matter, but in this case, it was hard to tell which factor was the bigger influence in his asinine behaviour.

"Are you suggesting that you will come here, every day, until these… cats are old enough to survive on their own?"

"Yes?" Anders tried to smile innocently, to no avail; Fenris knew the man was anything but.

"No," he said, and tried to shut the door in the mage's face. Anders was quick however, possibly expecting it, and managed to get a foot between it and the door frame.

"Fenris, _please_. You said you would listen." Of _course_ he would come to regret ever saying that, of _course_.

"To you, yes. Not your cats!"

"But you know how much it would mean to me, don't you?" Well… yes. Not that he particularly cared, at least not much. But certainly more than was strictly healthy, if he was to be completely honest with himself.

"…Yes," he admitted.

"Let me trade it? You listening to me, for sheltering the kittens?"

He should be insulted, really, by the sheer nerve of the man, to try and barter with his promise in this way. He certainly tried to, but the mage looked at him so sadly, so desperately, that he could not quite bring himself to fully commit to it.

"They are innocent and helpless," the mage prodded further, as if he needed to. Fenris was at least relieved that he believed that he needed to.

"…Only until it is safe to let them out on their own," he sighed, and opened the door wide enough to let the mage in, kittens and all.

"Thank you! You know, I will have to tidy up a bit in here though, we can't risk them hurting themselves stepping on something sharp or infected," the man told him before turning his attention to the basket in his arms. "No we cannot, little dears, _of course_ not! I would never let that happen to such _cute little kitties_, no never ever _ever_," he cooed at them in a ridiculous sing-song voice.

Fenris had the distinct impression that the mage had never doubted that he would give in, until he spoke again, voice low and serious, careful not to look directly at him.

"Really. Thank you."

* * *

><p>He only helped the mage clear a room to keep the kittens in the get him to leave sooner, Fenris told himself, silently counting to ten, and then a hundred, trying to keep his growing frustration over Anders' endless prattle in check.<p>

"I couldn't very well let _Hawke_ watch over them, you know. Not only is there that _horrid_ mabari to consider, but the man has to be half a troll himself, at the very least. I am not sure he could be trusted with them."

The implication that Fenris was deemed trustworthy enough to keep guard over his _little darling angels _was nice, though, in its own bizarre way.

"You know, this was a nice idea, to let them have their own room," he continued on as he built a nest out of blankets on top of the spare bed. "Kind of like a nursery."

"You," Fenris said with more patience than he felt, "are not their parent." Surely the man knew, but as Fenris was still undecided on how much the possible number of knocks to his head might have affected him, it could not hurt to make sure.

"I still get to name them, though," came the cheerful response. "_This_ is Ser Flufflepaws," he said as he picked up a grey one with especially fluffy fur, "and _this_ is Captain Cuddlenugget, and this –"

The names all made Fenris cringe inwardly, but he found the care the mage showed the animals oddly endearing. He picked them up from the basket, one by one, introducing them to Fenris before gently lowering them to the nest.

You show that mage even half a fingernail, and he takes it as an invitation to try to claw his way into your heart.


End file.
